


sayonara hitori

by taekaibible



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: AU, Alcoholism, M/M, Smut, flangst, mental illness themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 13:14:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taekaibible/pseuds/taekaibible
Summary: Taemin is running away from home but on the way he meets a boy with eyes like burnt sienna that make him feel perhaps home isn't four walls but two eyes and a heartbeat.





	sayonara hitori

**Author's Note:**

> My first Taekai draft I feel confident enough to post. I hope you'll enjoy it and please don't hate me too much by the end of it :")

 

**B _oom_** , crash, shriek, cry. Oath, gasp, insult, slap. Taemin can hear it all, the unyielding echoes of the parental war taking place outside his bedroom door. Phantom hands wrap around his heart and squeeze, he curls into himself behind the curtains and prays the door won’t open.

He wishes he could be used to it by now. But he’s not.

Huddling behind the curtains, he loses himself to the fear. He’s four years old as he first remembers the screaming matches, his innocent heart cracking at the sight of his parents tearing into each other. He’s five as he flattens himself under his bed, six as he folds himself between the door and the wall, hoping they won’t find him here. He’s seven as he hides behind the couch, eight as he tries to slip out of the house – and gets discovered, bruises to show for it – ten when he first tries to intervene – and gets knocked to the ground by his so called father for it – twelve as he learns hiding away and waiting for it to blow over is the best way to deal with it. Fourteen when running away first crosses his mind, fifteen he’s tired of living and even now at seventeen, he does not know which Taemin he is, only that he’s scared out of his mind, just as he was when he was four.

He holds his breath tighter, willing himself not to let out a single sound. He knows they can’t hear him, they can’t even hear each other though they’re screaming. But their footsteps are coming closer and the three pointed scar on his right hip reminds him just how severely they could injure him during their inebriated wars.

_Please, please, please,_ he whispers in his heart. He doesn’t know what or whom he’s praying to, just that he’s desperate for his drunken parents not to enter his room. He’s always been small, not quite petit but slender enough to hide in tight spaces efficiently. He hopes now that they’ll miss him even if they come in.

The door bangs open like gunshot.

“Taemin? Taemin, come – come out! We’re l-leaving! We’re – Taemin? Taemin!” the alcohol-slurred voice of Taemin’s mother echoes through his almost bare room. He barely restrains his reflex, almost jumping out of his skin in fright. His heart is beating so erratically, he thinks the wild thumps of it will alert his mother to him.

He hears her fling the remaining wardrobe door open, the other fell off its hinges long ago. Besides, he doesn’t fit in its confined space anymore. But Taemin guesses she’s too intoxicated to realize this because he hears the ruffle of clothes as she tosses them out, looking for him as though he might be hiding in the pockets of his jeans.

“Taemin!” she still screams, stomping about his tiny room. Taemin hears another set of stomps heading towards him and his heart sinks so low, his soul going down with it. His father is headed this way as well.

“The little shit left – left again!” she gives a shrill infuriated cry. Phantom hands wrap around Taemin’s heart and squeeze, _hope_ , just a little hope that they’ll go away, that they’ll give up now that they can’t find him. He knows the trouble that will await him when they really find him will brew and brew and explode mightily. He’s bound to get hurt anyway. He knows their misdirected anger will only broil and evolve into full blown rage.

He’s just tired of hurting, his whole body still aches from the encounters of two days before and he longs for one more day, one more day of being left alone in peace.

“Why do you care, huh? Why do you care so much about him?” his father’s rage is so palpable, it strikes Taemin like a flaming iron rod, even from his concealed spot. He does not sound as drunk as his mother does and the sober version of his father is more brutal than the shit-faced entirely-out-of-it version. The little hope that had sparked in him begins to shrivel.

“I don–“

All Taemin is aware of next is a sharp _thwack_ and elbows digging into his sides as a body slumps over him, forcing his head onto the wall and making him choke on a mouthful of cold, white painted stone.

Then he is being yanked to his feet, with so much force that he thinks his arm just might get severed from his shoulder. He doesn’t have much time to gain his senses before he’s being shoved to the ground again, his head spinning as his skull meets the floor unceremoniously.

“Hiding away?” his father spits, pulling him back by his hair, tears stinging Taemin’s eyes. Taemin is still dizzy, his vision is distorted, but he can see the blurred outline of the man, too close in his face for comfort. “Coward. I told you Kyungmi, this bastard is no son of mine.” he spits with ice and spite and Taemin wishes he could be used to his father’s resentment for him. But he can’t because he’s not. He wishes he could say he’s built impregnable fortresses against the unyielding loathing in his father’s arsenal, physically and emotionally – but he hasn’t. Taemin still feels himself crumble, each disparaging word striking him like a spear in the tender, unmanned depth of his heart.

A punch to the stomach steals his breath, he grips his father’s shoulder as he doubles over but he’s immediately shoved away, his head knocking into the sharp edge of the door. Stars explode behind his eyelids as pain bursts through his being, the tangy iron of blood already on his tongue. Gravity has abandoned him as the world tilts on a strange axis and he can’t seem to tell which way is up or down or left or right. He’s writhing in agony as the screaming match resumes from its half-time break and Taemin is left to lick his own wounds.

 

~

 

He doesn’t know how much time has passed since he lost consciousness but the blood from the cut on his head is slightly sticky and the stench of staling blood makes his empty stomach lurch. He tries to pick himself off of the floor but his body screams in protest and he gives up, slumping back onto himself. The house is eerily silent which means his parents have taken their war elsewhere. _Good riddance_ , Taemin thinks but he’s simultaneously too numb and aching to feel fully grateful.

He stares up at the ceiling, some parts of it stained yellow – from what, he doesn’t know. He gets lost in the emptiness and the silence, despair crushing him to the floor.

How long? How long must it be like this?

All his memories are gray zones and bloodied battlegrounds. There’s agony and screaming and unending heartache. There’s resentment that runs deeper than volcanic vents and wounds that have been gaping open craters for years. Unclosing. Most of all, there’s longing. For better things, for a better life. So many times he came close to just ending it because if better meant ceasing to be, then so be it. He’s held out, waiting for the silver lining but good fortune keeps holding itself far away from him. There’s only one thing that ever brings him joy, one thing that makes him hold on to that shrinking piece of hope each day and reminds him of the pureness that can be found even in the clutches of unending misery.

Dancing.

However, he doesn’t have much of that either anymore, the battering sessions are becoming too frequent and Taemin’s body aches too much to be moving it elaborately for extended periods. He’s left with nothing. He has nothing. His life is a landscape of gray scale, all the colour leached deep beneath the ground.

He’s tired. _He’s so tired_.

_I can’t live like this forever_ , he thinks. _I can’t, I can’t, I really can’t._

He’s tried dying but he hasn’t tried living. _That’s it_ , he thinks. _This is all I can endure_.

His body still groans when he attempts to get up again but this time there’s more vigour in his bones from the determination that has strengthened his soul.

 

~

 

Taemin feels like he’s been walking for days but the plastic watch on his wrist tells him it’s only been three hours. It’s long past noon but the heat is an unforgiving enemy. Every once in a while, he has to stop to dab at the cut on his head that trickles blood into his eyes, the wound stinging as sweat from his temple drips into it. His body still feels sore and achy like a washcloth that has been wrung too tight. He knows the provisions he’s brought with him will last him two days at most and the scattered change he’s managed to amass can only afford him one train ticket. He knows he could end up sleeping in the bushes on the side of the long, lonely endless road tonight if he doesn’t make it to the train station before exhaustion passes him out. He knows he barely has a plan, he barely knows what he’s doing.

And yet there’s a spring to his steps that he’s never quite had. He’s left the warzone he grew up in behind and he’s not going back. If he ever reaches Seoul, he’d rather sleep on the streets of the city than come back to this hellhole that has robbed his life thus far.

So he walks on.

 

~

 

Six hours and the spring in Taemin’s steps has long faded. He feels like he’s been visited by death. He urges himself to take one more step, one, two, one two, in time with the rhythm of his heart, just a little further, just one more step. The remaining energy has been used up though, every sliver of strength. Eventually his knees weaken and he’s meeting the ground with his palms and knees, the backpack on him slumping to the side.

In the whole six hours he’s been walking, there has only been a few vehicles here and there, most of them going in the opposite of his desired direction, none of them stopping or slowing down for him. Some even blasted their horns at him, though the roads were empty and they had much space to manoeuvre around him. It’s been a lonely journey, albeit not being one to seek company. Just that he feels so isolated, like he’s the only person on this miserable planet. The heat has cooled down with the dipping sun but he’s been so thirsty and rationing his water is not one of his better abilities. He’s running out fast. He doesn’t know when or _if_ he will reach the station. But he can’t go any further right now. He needs a break.

He slumps down onto the side of the road, exhaustion making his head spin. He takes a moment to close his eyes, knowing his legs are spilling onto the road. He reassures himself that he’ll hear any approaching vehicle from a mile away. It feels impossible to open his eyes, he feels as though he can sleep right here, right in this position, he’s that tired and aching. He very well loses himself for a few moments, minutes, perhaps even ten or fifteen, giving in to the seductive caress of sleep.

The first drop that falls onto his nose makes him jolt but he still doesn’t open his eyes. Then the sky rumbles and groans, a divine wakeup call that cannot be ignored. He opens his eyes to a shockingly ebony sky, the previously bright azure day streaked with shades of charcoal and gray. Heaven opens up on him with another hefty rumble and he can only sit there, dumbfounded as he’s soaked to the bone within seconds.

Heavy rain drills onto the hard ground and the sound is soothing. Taemin loves the rain.

Just not when he’s caught out in it, in a situation like this. There’s only the road and the endless grass fields on its sides, absolutely nowhere to take shelter in sight. The sky explodes with light and somewhere at the horizon ahead of him, he sees the zigzag burst meet the ground, the sky rumbling soon after. A breeze that had not been there earlier on picks up and starts an ominous wail. Suddenly it’s much colder and the raindrops are made into small pebbles by the wind and every drop hurts. Taemin feels so defeated, he doesn’t know if it’s raindrops or tears on his face now.

He’s shivering uncontrollably, feeling the wetness in every inch possible. He’s thoroughly soaked. He doesn’t know what to do or where to go. He pulls his knees in and wraps his arms around it, hugging himself as he rocks back and forth. He almost wishes he could be back in his tiny room but the thought doesn’t carry much regret or conviction. If he’s to die like this then it’s fine. At least he’ll die trying to do something for himself, for once.

He barely registered the sound of the car approaching, but now it’s unmissable as the headlights beam brightly onto him. He quickly tries to pull himself away from the road in case the driver is waiting for him to move so he can pass, his hands meeting the now muddied grass with a squelch. His whole rear is probably covered in muck now. He waits but the car still does not pass.

“Boy, what are you doing?” a window is rolled down and a raspy voice shouts out. Taemin squints at the car, which looks oddly larger than normal cars. He can’t see the driver but he soon hears the door open and an old burly man appears before him.

“You lost?” the man peers down at him, assessing him. Taemin shakes his head.

“Well hop in, you can tell me where you’re headed.” the man points to his vehicle, which Taemin realizes is actually a pickup truck. The man reaches out a hand and Taemin is left to make his split second decision. The man is a stranger. He can’t trust him. However, it’s not like his options are safer or brighter. A storm has ensued. He’s already soaked through. He still has many more miles to the station. It’s so dark and nightfall is coming soon anyway. Anyone and anything can find him on this open road.

He takes the man’s hand and allows him to help him stand. He puts an arm around Taemin and leads him to the passenger side.

“Move over, Jongin.” Taemin hears the man say before he is hoisted up by the waist and settled down on the soft seat of the truck. It’s much warmer inside here, he’s instantly grateful. He wraps his arms around himself and looks over to the person that was told to move over.

The boy, Jongin, looks young, perhaps his age if not younger. He has brown hair and warm eyes that are assessing Taemin right back. His lips bow into a smile and despite the uncontrollable shivering, Taemin finds himself giving back a small shaky smile. The driver side door bangs shut then and the man is back inside the car.

“So then, where are you headed, lad?” the man asks. Taemin can get a proper look at him now and he realizes that the man is not as old as he first thought. His dark hair is thinning but not quite blading. There are many wrinkles at the corner of his eyes yet a youthful warmth dances in his pupils.

“S-station.” he manages to get out, conscious of how he must look and how he’s soaking wet and is probably dirtying the man’s truck.

“How ‘bout you come on over with us and dry up. Storm’s gonna start raging proper soon.” he observed the sky through the windscreen even though there was nothing but a veil of impenetrable inky clouds to be seen.

“I-“

“I’ll drive you down to the station in the morning. Everything’s going to be closing up soon and you’ll miss the last train anyway.” the man reasoned, cutting off Taemin’s already half-formed rejection.

He had a point.

“You can stay the night.” the man concludes, firmly but not unkindly. With that, he turns the key and the engine coughs to life.

The undivided seat is meant for three but Taemin finds himself pressed up next to Jongin. He tries to shift himself away, press into the side of the door instead but there really isn’t much leeway. He is aware that he is getting the other boy wet and he finds his cheeks warming in embarrassment.

“Jongin, give the boy that blanket, won’t you?”

Jongin reaches for somewhere behind Taemin and straightens back with a blanket. Taemin expects him to hand it over but the boy wraps it around him instead. Perhaps it’s because Taemin feels so cold that it feels like the chill has seeped into his bones or perhaps Jongin is abnormally warm but Taemin can feel the heat of the other boy as he leans over and Taemin subconsciously leans in, his face close to Jongin’s turned cheek. Blushing, he catches himself and leans away, hoping the other boy did not see it. The tilt in the corner of Jongin’s lips tells Taemin he hasn’t had the luck and he ducks his head, willing away the slight flush of embarrassment.

When Jongin finishes tucking the blanket around a grateful Taemin, he straightens again before giving Taemin a soft contemplative look then gazing ahead.

“It’s gonna be quite some time before we get home. Let’s pray it doesn’t get too rough till then,” the man says, looking over quickly, “this is my lad, Jongin. What’re you called, boy?”

“T-taemin,” Taemin stutters, the chattering of his teeth is as audible as the drum of the rain outside.

“You look young. You shouldn’t be out on these roads alone.”

Taemin nods, not knowing what to say, not knowing if the man is waiting for an explanation. He does not have to ponder too long as the man leans over and turns a knob, white noise filling the truck before the noise assembles itself into instruments and notes, an old ballad crooning from the radio.

He’s getting warmer and the howls of the wind and thrumming of the rain is the most irresistible, tranquil lullaby to Taemin, lulling him softly into the soothing hands of sleep. Before he knows it, exhaustion and comfort has overpowered him and his head droops onto Jongin’s shoulder. Jongin angles his shoulder lower and lets the brittle looking boy rest.

 

~

 

Taemin is being shaken awake. The hands on his shoulders are unrelenting, digging into him as though they want to pierce through his skin. He can imagine the enraged face hovering above him. He wants to pull his covers up and pretend he can’t hear or feel but the person doesn’t let him, continuing to shake him.

He jolts awake.

It’s dark and he’s cold, he registers first. Then, that he’s not in his room. He stares, eyes open wide, until his vision focuses and he sees shy eyes staring at him instead of hostile ones and a gentle grip on his shoulders instead of bruising ones.

_Jongin_ , he thinks, recalling what happened and where he is. The truck is parked and the rain is pelting, the wind is screeching and hurling the rain around like heaven’s vengeful bullets.

“We’re going to have to make a dash for it. Keep up, alright?” the man says sternly, already pushing his door open. Taemin nods, a little disoriented and does the same. He’s instantly hit with a gust of chilling air and rock hard rain. He flinches and subconsciously turns away, curving into Jongin. Jongin pats his back and gives him an encouraging push towards the door. Taemin decides the quicker he gets out, the quicker he can get inside. Still feeling tired to the bone despite having napped, Taemin pushes himself out with his last strength and grits his teeth, his face being battered by wind and his feet squelching into the path that has been transformed into a mud carpet. He’s flanked by tall plants on either side, the only clear way is ahead. He soon feels a hand slipping into his beneath the blanket still wrapped around him before Jongin is jogging ahead and pulling him along.

 

The house is warm and dimly lit. Taemin doesn’t know if it’s truly silent or if the storm raging outside is too loud. Jongin has not let go of his hand and he leads him again deeper into the house. They enter a kitchen, Jongin’s father already there talking to a woman in low tones. The woman smiles as she sees Jongin but then her face transforms as she sees Taemin and lets out a gasp.

Without warning Taemin finds himself terrified. He remembers his mother, he remembers her face every time she sees him, he remembers how it twists and how she raises her hand and strikes him. A visceral part of him takes over. He finds himself pressing into Jongin’s back and covers his face with the other boy’s body, losing himself to fear. He doesn’t remember that he’s only met this boy and that this is too close for strangers, too strange for strangers.

But Jongin does not push him away. His arms reach back and settle on Taemin’s sides, steadying the shaking younger boy. Taemin wraps his arms around Jongin and presses closers, shaking like a lily caught in the torrent of white waters.

“Aigoo, who’s this?” Taemin hears a rather dulcet tone exclaim before someone is pulling him away from Jongin. He finds himself in the arms of the woman that evoked the fear in him, finding her eyes much kinder than he expected, her hands gentle on him. She looks at him with the indignant empathy one would look at a wounded puppy with, pushing back his matted hair from his face.

“Goodness! He’s bleeding!” She gasps, looking at the blood smeared on her hand from where she touched his head.

“That’s Taemin. He’s staying here tonight.” the man informs what Taemin presumes to be his wife, Jongin’s mother.

“Jongin-ah, take him upstairs. Here, take the first aid kit with you. Give him something dry to wear. I’ll bring you something to eat, okay? Don’t worry Little Taemin, we’ll take care of you.” the woman, Jongin’s mom, reassures him with a squeeze before nudging him towards Jongin and reaching for a cupboard. The other boy takes something his mother passes to him and takes Taemin’s hand, leading him again.

 

The lights are off and the storm rams against the shuttered window, gusts of wind blowing into the room even though the window is shut. A light flickers on. The ceiling in the room Jongin has led them to hangs low and is slanted into two, making the space seem compacted. Jongin pushes him down onto a stool. Taemin takes this time to observe the room as the taller boy rummages through the box his mother had given him.

There’s a bed that’s not quite a double bed and is too large to be single. A mahogany chest of drawers is pushed up against wall, a few items neatly organized on top. In one corner there are three rows of towering books stacked, almost all the way to the low ceiling. Next to the books are three golden wicker baskets, stuffed with pillows. Taemin realizes they are for dogs. Besides that the room is not furbished much. Despite the minimal furniture and items in the room, there is a cosy homely feel that makes Taemin want to curl up beneath the quilted afghan on the bed.

When he turns back to Jongin, the other boy is already standing before him, wearing an expectant look. He’s got a bundle of damp cotton wool in his hand. He tilts his head back and at first Taemin is confused. Then he gets it, Jongin wants him to tilt his head back like that. The boy comes closer and reaches out carefully, hesitantly, like Taemin is an aggravated animal that can attack him anytime. He dabs the cotton onto Taemin’s forehead and Taemin flinches with a hiss. Jongin looks stricken, immediately stopping. He looks at Taemin earnestly and rubs a closed fist over his chest. Taemin stares, puzzled.

The boy rubs his fist over his chest again but then his mouth drops open in a circle and his nose scrunches up, realization hitting him. He makes some rapid motions with his hands but Taemin cannot follow.

“What?” Taemin wonders why he can’t just speak to him –

Oh.

Jongin is gesturing to his mouth and forming an X, shaking his head, the same time realization dawns on Taemin too. Jongin is mute.

“I understand.” Taemin says softly, a faint pang of despondency ringing through him. The other boy nods, understanding in his eyes too, understanding what Taemin feels. He reaches to dab the cotton on the sitting one’s wound again and this time Taemin does his best not to flinch. He can’t help the winces and though Jongin doesn’t stop to gesture an apology, the apology is in his eyes.

With the wound cleaned up and a bandage wrapped around it, Taemin finds himself leaning into Jongin delicately patting his head as he observes his handiwork. It’s only when the hand combs through his wet locks and cups his cheek, Taemin leaning into the warm palm, that they both realize what is happening. Jongin makes no sound but he makes that jolted, scrunched up expression that almost makes Taemin forget about his own bashfulness.

Jongin shuffles away, reassembled first-aid kit in his hand and sets it on top of the chest. He opens a drawer and stops in front of Taemin again.

_“Taemin-ssi, take a shower okay? Jongin-ssi will bring you some clothes._ ^ㅂ^”

Taemin reads the message scribbled onto the notebook the taller boy is holding up before him. The smiley face is reflected on the face of real life Jongin too and Taemin’s lips curl as he nods.

 

When Taemin finishes taking his shower, his aching limbs soothed by hot water and his skin grateful for the scrub, he heads back up to the attic room. The clothes Jongin handed him are slightly too big on him, the sleeves drooping past his hands but it smells nice like laundry detergent, grass and a heady scent that Taemin can’t place but finds pleasant.

Jongin’s father is there with him, the boy is seated on the floor with a tray of steaming dishes before him.

“Jongin, do you want me to bring up Monggu, Jjanggu and Jjangah?” Jongin’s father says and he shakes his head quickly.

“Are you sure? Will you be alright?” Jongin’s father asks insistently, his voice dubious. Jongin shakes his head again and rapidly moves his hands. Taemin can see Jongin’s father gesture back and the silent exchange makes him feel like he is some sort of intruding ghost.

“Ah, Taemin, you’re out of the shower. Come and eat. You look like you’re about to pass out.” Jongin’s father tuts at him when his cough catches their attention.

“Eat up boys and don’t get too frightened. The storm will be over by morning.” After signing something to Jongin, the boy’s father leaves with a ‘goodnight’ and shuts the door. They eat in comfortable silence.

 

~

 

Taemin is about to slip into sleep when he feels it. The bed is vibrating, as if there are small tremors going through the mattress. He thinks it’s his imagination, that he’s already in dreamland. However, he picks up on a sound, slight gasps that don’t stop. He’s awake now, wondering if death has come for him and if this is actually his body shaking like a leaf.

He sits up groggily. It’s only then that he realizes that the bed is still shaking and it’s not him at all. The boy next to him is caught in a turbulent dream, shaking so hard that the whole bed is shaking with him, gasping as if there are hands wrapped around his lungs and cutting off his breath. Taemin snaps the bedside lamp on and tentatively calls out for Jongin to wake up. When that doesn’t work, he leans over and shakes him.

Taemin lets out an unearthly shriek, almost jumping out of his skin when Jongin’s eyes fling open and he springs up into Taemin’s arms. Jongin wraps all his limbs around him like a terrified koala, still shaking. He’s drenched in sweat but his body is cool against Taemin.

“Jongin,” Taemin says softly, his arms coming up to return the embrace, lest they tumble backwards with the force of Jongin’s quivering. The obviously frightened boy only clings tighter. There’s nothing Taemin can do but hold him, rubbing his hands down Jongin’s sides in an attempt to soothe him. When Jongin doesn’t seem to be calming down, he starts humming. It’s an old tune, he doesn’t know where he first heard it. It’s something he used to hum himself to sleep to on nights where even the moon garnered no peace from his parents. Within seconds Taemin notices Jongin’s quivers lessening in intensity.

Jongin is almost completely relaxed now in his arms. He hums quietly, his voice blending in with the night and the rain and the wind, the two of them enclosed in a warm bubble that for now, cannot be breached. There’s warmth humming in Taemin’s own veins and he finds that he doesn’t mind this at all. He rests his head against Jongin’s shoulder and finds himself getting sleepy again, his hands coming to rest on the other boy’s waist.

They are almost about to fall asleep like that when lightning explodes somewhere terribly close by in the sky, lighting up the room like floodlights suddenly being shined in on them and the sky bellows with the loud clap of thunder. Jongin jolts up in Taemin’s arms, the two of them knocking heads. Taemin groans and rubs his head as Jongin slips out of his hold and curls his arms around himself, shaking full force again.

“Jongin, Jongin, hey,” Taemin pursues the boy after breaking out of the daze the force of their heads put him in.

“Jongin, it’s okay.” he tries to get the other boy to look at him but it seems like Jongin has retreated deep within himself as he holds himself together tight, fear locking his bones. When thunder rumbles in the sky again and Jongin jumps, his mouth opening in a silent cry, Taemin understands. Jongin is terrified of the storm.

“Jonginnie,” Taemin whispers in a moment of unexpected tenderness, his heart softening for reasons he cannot yet explain. He straddles Jongin, even if the boy is lying on his side and wraps his limbs around him, like Jongin had previously and hugs him tight, willing the other boy’s fear away, willing him to feel the comfort Taemin wants to exude.

“It’s okay.” He whispers again as he buries his face in the crook of Jongin’s neck, the skin covered in a layer of cold sweat but Taemin doesn’t care. He feels a fondness for this boy that he cannot fathom himself but he knows is there. It feels like it’s always been there, like hiding a treasure chest somewhere, letting time rust the memory of its location and suddenly stumbling upon it by the pure luck of serendipity.

“Don’t be scared. I’m here.”

Eventually, Jongin calms down enough to return Taemin’s embrace, shifting over so he lies on his back. They stay wrapped around each other like this for a while, Jongin’s quivers dying down, his breathing steadily returning to normal until he has completely relaxed.

“Good,” Taemin praises when Jongin has calmed down, nuzzling into his neck. Jongin’s body jolts again unexpectedly, arching up into Taemin, his hands clutching at Taemin’s back. He lifts his head from Jongin’s neck in shock but the other boy is straining his neck to look away and Taemin can see the blush forming on his tan cheeks in the warm yellow glow of the lamplight.

“Jongin,” Taemin says, putting a finger under Jongin’s face and turning the boy to face him. Jongin’s chocolatey-bronze locks are already matted on his forehead from sweating so much out of fear and his skin is slick. His lips appear much more cerise to Taemin now in this intimate glow and how they’re so close, face to face, heartbeat to heartbeat.

“It’s okay,” Taemin whispers once again and it truly is. He doesn’t feel repulsed or intimated by this or Jongin at all. So he lowers his face into Jongin’s neck and kisses the same spot that made Jongin jolt again. Jongin’s hands curl in his shirt once more and this time he doesn’t look away or pull back, only bares his neck more so Taemin can lay his gentle kisses over the expanse of his taut skin.

Taemin’s kisses travel their way to Jongin’s face, to the corner of his lips where Taemin hovers and Jongin pouts when Taemin takes too long to reach his destination. Taemin is smiling against Jongin’s lips when he finally, _finally_ presses them to the boy lying beneath him.

He’s not sure about Jongin but it’s Taemin’s first kiss. It’s a bit awkward at first but soon they melt against each other like butter in midday heat, slowly learning to move their lips in rhythm. Jongin is sweet on his lips like candyfloss, and tastes like what Taemin presumes sunshine would taste like if it were tangible. He grips Jongin’s shoulder and presses them even closer together. Jongin clutches his hips tighter, it doesn’t seem like he minds.

The first time Taemin rolls his hips, Jongin’s mouth falls open against his, the second time he arches into Taemin again and by the third time he’s rolling his hips too, upwards, desperately.

Thunder shudders the earth again but this time neither of them hear it as they rut against each other in a frenzied heat. Taemin drops his forehead against Jongin’s, his black strands falling over Jongin’s forehead and eyes but the other boy is preoccupied with reaching up and pressing kisses over Taemin’s face, on the tip of his nose, on the bridge, his cheek and anywhere else his mouth can land as they gyrate their hips, their eyes not leaving each other. He loves how Jongin looks up at him with so much need and how his eyes go unfocused with each grind and how they plead for so much more.

“Jongin,” Taemin gasps, feeling so close to the edge. He quickly reaches for the other boy’s hand and links their fingers, feeling the inexplicable need to be as close as possible to Jongin in every way possible, to hold on to him like this until the end of time. He brings up their linked hands above Jongin’s head and buries his neck in the spot he’s learnt is Jongin’s erogenous spot, kissing it feather soft again and again. Jongin’s body now arches like drawn bowstrings and he bites into Taemin’s shoulder as they both find their rapturous relief, Taemin moaning softly into Jongin’s neck and Jongin quivering with pleasure beneath him.

Their breaths heave heavily from their chests as they come down from their high, Taemin slumping against Jongin, their joint hands loosely intertwined. When Taemin raises his head from Jongin’s crook, he finds the other boy already looking at him apprehensively, his breath picking up again in what seems like anxiety.

“Shh, it’s okay Jonginnie. It’s fine.” Taemin reassures him, sliding off Jongin only to tuck him into his side.

“Did you like that?” Taemin quietly asks as he cards his hand through Jongin’s slick hair. “Me too.” Taemin beams when Jongin nods.

“Don’t be scared, okay? I’ll tell you a story…” Taemin begins, pulling Jongin closer. Sub consciously he wonders at this feeling, this wholesome feeling of complete ease with this person he’s never met before today, this feeling of wanting to stay wrapped together like this for a long while, this feeling of wanting to feel more of their velvet lips and the look of their warm soulful eyes. It’s all so foreign to him but so completely right and easy. He knows morning will come…but for tonight…tonight the time between now and dawn feels like infinity. Tonight he has forever with Jongin, Jongin who makes his heart so full like this with uncharted emotions.

So he pulls the afghan over them both as the storm rages on outside, the two of them safe beneath the covers in each other’s arms as Taemin tells Jongin the silly stories he read from the books he stole from the library whenever he managed to slip away undetected. Jongin gasps and whimpers every once in a while whenever exceptionally loud thunder shakes the skies or an incredibly bright thunder bolt blinds them, but Taemin holds him closer and whispers _it’s alright Jonginnie, I’m here_ , continuing on with the story. They both eventually grow drowsy and Taemin’s words get fainter and sparser as he succumbs to sleep. Jongin presses a sleepy, chaste, grateful kiss to his lips before following him into the chambers of oblivion.

 

In the morning when Jongin awakes, just after noon when the world is recovering from the ruthless storm, Taemin is already gone. There’s a note on his bedside table that leaves him more forlorn than any tearful goodbye could.

_“Taeminnie will never forget Jonginnie. 6v6.”_

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be full blown pwp. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ it wasn't even inspired by taem's sayo hito tbh. but when i finished writing and started thinking up titles, i realized the lyrics were perfect for the story. i'm thinking of writing a sort of sequel, with a considerable time skip told in jongin's pov...what do you guys think? i've fallen for the taeki in this au :") please let me know your thoughts and leave a kudos if you liked it!
> 
> you can reach me @taekaibible on twitter & tumblr for more taekai feels ^^;


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